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SOCIAL    LIFE    IN    OLD    VIRGINIA 
BEFORE    THE    WAR 


"  Tall  lilies,  •white  as  angels"  icings  and  stately  as  the  maidens  that 
-tvalked  among  them."" 


f 


C- 


Social  Life  in  Old  Virginia 
Before  the  War 

BY 

THOMAS    NELSON    PAGE 

With  Illustrations  by 
THE    MISSES    COWLES 


¥ 


NEW    YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

M  DCCC  XCVII 


Copyright,  iSg7, 
By  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


SRnihfTsitn  }3rrss  : 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  Mass  ,  U.  S.  A. 


Library,  Univ.  of 
North  Carolina 
List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 


"  Tall  lilies,    white    as    angels'    ivings 
and  stately  as  tlie  maidens  that  walked 

among  them  " frontispiece 

The  Plantation  House 9 

"  Shining  tables  with  slender  brass-tipped 

legs " 12 

"  There  the  guns  nvere  kept  "   .      .      .      .      13 

"  Bookcases   filled    ivith     browti-backed, 
much-read  books ' '       .      .      .      .      .      .      15 

"  The  flower  of  all  others  'was  the  rose  "      18 

Tobacco .20 

A  "  Typical  Mammy'''' 23 

"  The  little  girls  in  their  great  sun-bon- 
nets " 26 

"  Busy  over  their  little  matters  with  that 

ceaseless  energy  of  boyhood "  .      .      .      .      27 
"  The  test  of  the  men  s  prowess''''  .       .      .      29 
vii 


List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 


The  Exclusive  Property  of  the  Mistress      .  33 

The  Mistress 39 

"  His  thoughts  d-Tvelt  upon  serious  tilings"  49 

An  Old  Virginia  Sideboard  ....  55 
"  She    tuas   never   anything   but    tender 

nuith  t/ie  others ' ' 61 

"  The  Butler  -zvas  apt  to  be  severe,  and 

zvas  feared" 65 

The  Lady  and  the  Ox-Cart     ....  69 

An  Old-fashioned  Grist-Mill   ....  75 

A  Colonial  Stove 81 

Dressing  the  Church      ......  87 

"  At  last  the  '  big  gate ' '  is  reached"       .  93 

The  Virginia  Reel   .......  99 

A  Negro  Wedding .  103 

A  Typical  Negro  Cabin       .      .      .      .      .  107 


Introduction 

Which  none  need  read  unless  he  pleases. 

JVJO  one  can  be  more  fully  aware 
of  the  shortcomings  of  this  brief 
sketch  of  Social  Life  in  the  South 
before  the  War  than  is  the  writer. 
Its  slightness  might  readily  have  ex- 
cused it  from  republication.  And  yet 
it  has  seemed  well  to  let  it  go  forth 
on  its  own  account,  to  take  such  place 
as  it  may  in  the  great  world  of  books. 
One  reason  is  the  partiality  of  a  few 
friends  who  have  desired  to  see  it  in 
this  form.  Another  is  the  absolute 
ignorance  of  the  outside  world  of  the 
real  life  of  the  South  in  old  times,  and 
the  desire  to  correct  the  picture  for  the 
benefit  of  the  younger  generation  of 
Southerners  themselves.  One  of  the 
i  i 


Introduction 

factors  in  that  life  was  slavery.  The 
most  renowned  picture  of  Southern  life 
is  one  of  it  as  it  related  exclusively  to 
that  institution.  As  an  argument  in  the 
case  then  at  bar,  it  was  one  of  the  most 
powerful  ever  penned.  Mrs.  Stowe  did 
more  to  free  the  slave  than  all  the  poli- 
ticians. And  vet  her  picture  is  not  one 
which  any  Southerner  would  willingly 
have  stand  as  a  final  portrait  of  South- 
ern life.  No  one  could  understand  that 
life  who  did  not  see  it  in  its  entiretv. 

The  old  life  at  the  South  passed 
away  in  the  flame  of  war  and  in  the 
vet  more  fierv  ordeal  of  Reconstruc- 
tion. So  complete  was  this  devastation 
that  now  unless  one  knows  where  to 
2;o  he  mav  search  in  vain  for  its  reality. 
Its  remnants  lie  scattered  in  far-off 
neighborhoods  ;  its  fragments  almost 
overgrown  with  the  tangles  of  a  new 
life.  The  picture  of  it  which  at 
present  is  mainly  presented  is  wholly 
2 


Introduction 

unreal.  The  Drama  is  one  of  the  ac- 
cepted modes  of  judging  of  passing 
life.  It  is  assumed  to  be  a  reason- 
ably true  reflection  of  the  life  it  pre- 
tends to  portray.  If  this  standard  shall 
be  accepted,  what  a  life  that  must  have 
been  which  existed  in  the  South  !  The 
bloodhounds,  brute  and  human,  that 
chased  delicate  women  for  sport,  have 
mainly  been  given  up.  But  their  place 
has  been  taken  by  a  different  species  of 
barbarian  if  possible  even  more  unreal 
than  those  they  supplanted.  Ouite  a 
large  crop  of  so-called  Southern  plays, 
or  at  least  plavs  in  which  Southerners 
have  figured,  has  of  late  been  intro- 
duced on  the  stage,  and  the  suppositi- 
tious Southerner  is  as  absurd  a  creation 
as  the  wit  of  ignorance  ever  devised. 
The  Southern  girl  is  usuallv  an  under- 
bred little  provincial,  whose  chief  char- 
acteristic is  to  sav  "  reckon "  and 
"  real,"  with  strong  emphasis,  in  every 
3 


Introduction 

other  sentence.  And  the  Southern 
gentleman  is  a  sloven  whose  linen  has 
never  known  starch ;  who  clips  the 
endings  of  his  words ;  says  "  Sah " 
at  the  end  of  every  sentence,  and 
never  uses  an  "  r "  except  in  the 
last  syllable  of  "  nigger."  With  a 
slouched  hat,  a  slovenly  dress,  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  "  sahs,"  and  a  slurred 
speech  exclusively  applied  to  "  niggers," 
he  is  equipped  for  the  stage.  And 
yet  it  is  not  unkindly  meant  :  only 
patronizingly,  which  is  worse.  That 
Thackeray,  Matthew  Arnold,  Law- 
rence, and  other  visitors  whose  Eng- 
lish passes  current,  declared  after  a 
visit  to  America  that  they  found  the 
purest  English  speech  spoken  in  Vir- 
ginia, goes  for  nothing. 

If  the  writers  of  the  plavs  referred  to 
would  attend  one  of  the   formal  assem- 
blies  under  one  of  the  old  social  asso- 
ciations  in   the   South,  —  for    instance, 
4 


Introduction 

the  St.  Cecilia  Ball  in  Charleston,  one 
of  the  final  refuges  of  old-fashioned 
gentility  and  distinguished  manners, — 
they  would  get  some  idea  of  what  old- 
time  good  breeding  and  high  courtesy 
were. 

It  is  perhaps  partly  to  correct  this 
erroneous  idea  of  the  Old  South  that 
this  little  essay  has  been  attempted. 
But    mainly    it    has    been    from    sheer 

affection. 

T.  N.  P. 


SOCIAL    LIFE    IN    OLD 

VIRGINIA 

BEFORE  THE  WAR 

|  ET  me  see  if  I  can  describe  an  old 
Virginia  home  recalled  from  a 
memory  stamped  with  it  when  a  virgin 
page.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  idealized  by 
the  haze  of  time  ;  but  it  will  be  as  I 
now  remember   it. 

The  mansion  was  a  plain  "  weather- 
board "  house,  one  story  and  a  half 
above  the  half-basement  ground  floor, 
set  on  a  hill  in  a  grove  of  primeval  oaks 
and  hickories  filled  in  with  ash,  maples, 
and  feathery-leafed  locusts  without  num- 
ber. It  was  built  of  timber  cut  by  the 
"  servants "  (thev  were  never  termed 
slaves  except  in  legal  documents)  out 
of  the  virgin  forest,  not  long  after  the 
Revolution,  when  that  branch  of  the 
family  moved  from  Yorktown.  It  had 
quaint  dormer  windows,  with  small 
7 


Social   Life 

panes,  poking  out  from  its  sloping  up- 
stairs rooms,  and  long  porches  to  shelter 
its  walls  from  the  sun  and  allow  house 
life  in   the  open  air. 

A  number  of  magnificent  oaks  and 
hickories  (there  had  originally  been  a 
dozen  of  the  former,  and  the  place  from 
them  took  its  name,  "  Oakland"),  under 
which  Totapottamoi  children  may  have 
played,  spread  their  long  arms  about  it, 
sheltering  nearly  a  half-acre  apiece ; 
whilst  in  among  them  and  all  around 
were  ash  and  maples,  an  eyergreen  or 
two,  lilacs  and  syringas  and  roses,  and 
locusts  of  every  age  and  size,  which  in 
springtime  filled  the  air  with  honeyed 
perfume,  and  lulled  with  the  "  murmur 
of  innumerable  bees." 

There  was  an  "  office  "  in  the  yard  ; 
another  house  where  the  boys  used  to 
stay,  and  the  right  to  sleep  in  which  was 
as  eagerly  looked  forward  to  and  as 
highly  prized  as  was  by  the  youth  of 
Rome  the  wearing  of  the  toga  vlrilis. 
There  the  guns  were  kept ;  there  the 
8 


in   Old  Virginia 

dogs  might  sleep  with  their  masters, 
under,  or  in  cold  weather  even  on,  the 
beds ;  and  there  charming  bits  of  mas- 
culine gossip  were  retailed  by  the  older 
young  gentlemen,  and  delicious  tales  of 
early  wickedness  related,  all  the  more 
delightful  because  they  were  veiled  in 
chaste  language  phrased  not  merely  to 
meet  the  doctrine,  maxima  reverentia 
pneris  debetur,  but  to  meet  the  higher 
truth  that  no  gentleman  would  use  foul 
language. 

Off  to  one  side  was  the  orchard,  in 
springtime  a  bower  of  pink  and  snow, 
and  always  making  a  pleasant  spot  in 
the  landscape ;  beyond  which  peeped 
the  ample  barns  and  stables,  and  far- 
ther yet   lay   the   wide  green   fields. 

Some  of  the  fields  that  stretched 
around  were  poor,  and  in  places  where 
the  rains  had  washed  off  the  soil,  red 
"  galls  "  showed  through  ;  but  the  tillage 
was  careful  and  systematic,  and  around 
the  house  were  rich  hay-fields  where 
the  cattle  stood  knee-deep  in  clover. 
ii 


jocial 


Life 


The  brown  worm  fences  ran  in  lateral 
lines,  and  the  ditches  were  kept  clean 
except  for  useful   willows. 


J4J.<W-   L^U_ 


The    furniture     was     old-timey    and 
plain,  —  mahogany   and    rosewood   bed- 
steads and  dressers  black  with  age,  and 
polished    till    they    shone    like    mirrors, 
12 


"  There  the  guns  -ivere  kept.''' 


in  Old  Virginia 

hung    with    draperies    white    as    snow; 
straight-backed    chairs    generations    old 
interspersed  with  common 
new   ones;   long   sofas  ^SAS? 

with    claw     feet;     old         i^W? 

ItfrK 


"  Bookcases  filled  with   brown-backed, 

much-read  books." 

shining  tables  with  slender  brass-tipped 

legs,   straight    or    fluted,    holding   some 

fine  old  books,  and  in  springtime  a  blue 

J5 


>ociai 


Life 


or  flowered  bowl  or  two  with  glorious 
roses ;  bookcases  filled  with  brown- 
backed,  much-read  books.    This  was  all. 

The  servants'  houses,  smoke-house, 
wash-house,  and  carpenter-shop  were 
set  around  the  "  back  yard,"  with 
"  mammy's  house  "  a  little  nicer  than 
the  others ;  and  farther  off,  upon  and 
beyond  the  quarters  hill,  "  the  quarters," 
—  whitewashed,  substantial  buildings, 
each  for  a  family,  with  chicken-houses 
hard  by,  and  with  yards  closed  in  by 
split  palings,  filled  with  fruit  trees, 
which  somehow  bore  cherries,  peaches, 
and  apples  in  a  mysterious  profusion 
even  when  the  orchard   failed. 

Beyond  the  yard  were  gardens. 
There  were  two,  —  the  vegetable  gar- 
den and  the  flower  garden.  The  former 
was  the  test  of  the  mistress's  power ; 
for  at  the  most  critical  times  she  took 
the  best  hands  on  the  place  to  work  it. 
The  latter  was  the  proof  of  her  taste.  It 
was  a  strange  affair  :  pyrocanthus  hedged 
it  on  the  outside  ;  honeysuckle  ran  riot 
16 


in  Old  Virginia 

over  its  palings,  perfuming  the  air ; 
yellow  cowslips  in  well-regulated  tufts 
edged  some  borders,  while  sweet  peas, 
pinks,  and  violets  spread  out  recklessly 
over  others  ;  jonquilles  yellow  as  gold, 
and,  once  planted,  blooming  every  spring 
as  certainly  as  the  trees  budded  or  the 
birds  nested,  grew  in  thick  bunches  ;  and 
here  and  there  were  tall  lilies,  white  as 
angels'  wings  and  stately  as  the  maidens 
that  walked  among  them ;  big  snowball 
bushes  blooming  with  snow,  lilacs  pur- 
ple and  white  and  sweet  in  the  spring, 
and  always  with  birds'  nests  in  them 
with  the  bluest  of  eggs  ;  and  in  places 
rosebushes,  and  tall  hollyhock  stems 
filled  with  rich  rosettes  of  every  hue  and 
shade,  made  a  delicious  tangle.  In  the 
autumn  rich  dahlias  and  pungent-odored 
chrysanthemums  ended  the  sweet  pro- 
cession and   closed   the   season. 

But  the  flower  of  all  others  was  the 
rose.  There  were  roses  evervwhere ; 
clambering  roses  over  the  porches  and 
windows,    sending  their   fragrance  into 

2  17 


Mf! 


-\* !. 


£WL 


the  rooms-,  roses  beside  the  walks; 
roses  around  the  yard  and  in  the  gar- 
den ;  roses  of  every  hue  and  delicate 
refinement  of  perfume  ;  rich  yellow 
roses  thick  on  their  briery  bushes, 
coming  almost  with  the  dandelions 
and  buttercups,  before  anv  others 
dared  face  the  April  showers  to  learn 
if  March  had  truly  gone,  sweet  as  if 
they  had  come  from  Paradise  to  be 
worn  upon  young  maidens'  bosoms, 
as  they  might  well  have  done  —  who 
knows  ?  —  followed  by  the  Giant  of 
Battles  on  their  stout  stems,  glorious 
enough  to  have  been  the  worthy  badge 
of  victorious  Lancastrian  kings  ;  white 
Yorks,  hardly  less  royal ;  cloth-of- 
golds  ;  dainty  teas  ;  rich  damasks  ; 
old  sweet  hundred-leafs  sifting  down 
their  petals  on  the  grass,  and  always 
filling  with   two  the  place  where  one 


Social    Life  in   Old   Virginia 

had  fallen.  These  and  many  more 
whose  names  have  faded  made  the  air 
fragrant,  whilst  the  catbirds  and  mock- 
ing-birds fluttered  and  sang  among  them, 
and  the  robins  foraged  in  the  grass  for 
their  greedy  yellow-throats  waiting  in 
the   hidden   nests. 

Looking  out  over  the  fields  was  a 
scene   not   to  be   forgotten. 

Let  me  sive  it  in  the  words  of  one 
who  knew  and  loved  Virginia  well,  and 
was  her  best  interpreter  : 1  — 

"  A  scene  not  of  enchantment, 
though  contrast  often  made  it  seem  so, 
met  the  eve.  Wide,  very  wide  fields 
of  waving  grain,  billowy  seas  of  green 
or  gold  as  the  season  chanced  to  be, 
over  which  the  scudding  shadows  chased 
and    played,   gladdened    the    heart    with 

1  Dr.  George  W.  Bagby.  His  "Old  Vir- 
ginia Gentleman  "  is  perhaps  the  best  sketch 
yet  written  in  the  South.  To  it  I  am  doubt- 
less indebted  for  much  in  this  paper.  His 
description  might  do  for  a  picture  of  Staunton 
Hill  resting  in  delicious  calm  on  its  eminence 
above  the  Staunton  River. 

19 


Social    Life 


^  ;V* 


V&  s~<~.<&- 


Tobacco. 


wealth  far  spread.  Upon  lowlands 
level  as  the  floor  the  plumed  and  tas- 
selled  corn  stood  tall  and  dense,  rank 
behind  rank  in  military  alignment  —  a 
20 


in  Old  Virginia 

serried  army  lush  and  strong.  The 
rich,  dark  soil  of  the  gently  swelling 
knolls  could  scarcely  be  seen  under  the 
broad  lapping  leaves  of  the  mottled 
tobacco.  The  hills  were  carpeted  with 
clover.  Beneath  the  tree-clumps  fat 
cattle  chewed  the  cud,  or  peaceful 
sheep  reposed,  grateful  for  the  shade. 
In  the  midst  of  this  plenty,  half  hidden 
in  foliage,  over  which  the  graceful 
shafts  of  the  Lombard  poplar  towered, 
with  its  bounteous  garden  and  its  or- 
chards heavy  with  fruit  near  at  hand, 
peered  the  old  mansion,  white,  or  dusky 
red,  or  mellow  gray  by  the  storm  and 
shine  of  years. 

"  Seen  by  the  tired  horseman  halting 
at  the  woodland's  edge,  this  picture, 
steeped  in  the  intense  quivering  sum- 
mer moonlight,  filled  the  soul  with 
unspeakable  emotions  of  beauty,  ten- 
derness, peace,  home. 

"  How  calm  could  we  rest 
In  that   bosom   of  shade  with   the   friends    we 
love  best! 

21 


Social    Life 

"  Sorrows  and  care  were  there  — 
where  do  they  not  penetrate  ?  But, 
oh  !  dear  God,  one  day  in  those  sweet, 
tranquil  homes  outweighed  a  fevered 
lifetime  in  the  gayest  cities  of  the  globe. 
Tell  me  nothing  ;  I  undervalue  naught 
that  man's  heart  delights  in.  I  dearly 
love  operas  and  great  pageants ;  but  I 
do  know  —  as  I  know  nothing  else  — 
that  the  first  years  of  human  life,  and 
the  last,  yea,  if  it  be  possible,  all  the 
years,  should  be  passed  in  the  country. 
The  towns  may  do  for  a  day,  a  week, 
a  month  at  most ;  but  Nature,  Mother 
Nature,  pure  and  clean,  is  for  all  time, 
—  yes,  for  eternity  itself." 

The  life  about  the  place  was  amaz- 
ing. There  were  the  busv  children 
playing  in  groups,  the  boys  of  the  fam- 
ily mingling  with  the  little  darkies  as 
freely  as  any  other  young  animals,  and 
forming  the  associations  which  tem- 
pered slavery  and  made  the  relation  one 
not  to  be  understood  save  by  those  who 
saw    it.      There     they    were,    stooping 

22 


A  Typical  "  Mammy." 


in  Old  Virginia 

down  and  jumping  up  ;  turning  and 
twisting,  their  heads  close  together,  like 
chickens  over  an  "  invisible  repast," 
their  active  bodies  always  in  motion  : 
busy  over  their  little  matters  with  that 
ceaseless  energy  of  boyhood  which 
could  move  the  world  could  it  but  be 
concentrated  and  conserved.  They 
were  all  over  the  place ;  in  the  orchard 
robbing  birds'  nests,  getting  into  wild 
excitement  over  catbirds,  which  they 
ruthlessly  murdered  because  they  "  called 
snakes  "  ;  in  spring  and  summer  fishing 
or  "washing"  in  the  creek,  riding;  the 
plough-horses  to  and  from  the  fields, 
running  the  calves  and  colts,  and  being 
as  mischievous  as  the  young  mules  they 
chased. 

There  were  the  little  girls  in  their 
great  sunbonnets,  often  sewed  on  to 
preserve  the  wonderful  peach-blossom 
complexions,  with  their  small  female 
companions  playing  about  the  yard  or 
garden,  running  with  and  wishing  they 
were  boys,   and    getting    half  scoldings 

25 


social 


Life 


from  mammy  for  being  tomboys  and 
tearing  their  aprons  and  dresses.  There, 
in  the  shade,  near  her  "  house,"  was 
the  mammy  with  her  assistants,  her 
little  charge  in  her  arms,  sleeping  in 
her  ample  lap,  or  toddling  about  her, 
with  broken,  half-formed  phrases,  better 
understood  than  framed.  There  passed 
young  negro  girls,  blue-habited,  run- 
ning about  bearing  messages  ;  or  older 
women  moving  at  a  statelier  pace,  doing 
with  deliberation  the  little  tasks  which 
were  their  "  work  ;"  whilst  about  the 
office     or     smoke-house     or     dairy     or 

25 


in   Old  Virginia 


wood-pile  there  was  always  some 
movement  and  life.  The  peace  of  it 
all  was  only  emphasized  by  the  sounds 
that  broke  upon  it  :  the  call  of  ploughers 
to  their  teams ;  the  shrill  shouts  of 
children  ;  the  chant  of  women  over 
their  work,  and  as  a  bass  the  recurrent 
hum  of  spinning-wheels,  like  the  drone 
of  some  great  insect,  sounding  from 
cabins  where  the  turbaned  spinners  spun 
their  fleecv  rolls  for  the  looms  which 
were  clacking;  in  the  loom-rooms  mak- 
ing homespun  for  the  plantation. 
From  the  back  yard  and  quarters  the 
27 


>ocial 


Life 


laughter  of  women  and  the  shrill,  joyous 
voices  of  children  came.  Par  oft",  in 
the  fields,  the  white-shirted  "  ploughers  " 
followed  singing  their  slow  teams  in  the 
fresh  furrows,  wagons  rattled,  and  ox- 
carts crawled  along,  or  gangs  of  hands 
in  lines  performed  their  work  in  the 
corn  or  tobacco  fields,  loud  shouts  and 
peals  of  laughter,  mellowed  by  the  dis- 
tance, floating  up  from  time  to  time, 
telling  that  the  heart  was  light  and  the 
toil  not  too  heavy. 

At  special  times  there  was  special 
activity  :  at  ice-getting  time,  at  corn- 
thinning  time,  at  fodder-pulling  time,  at 
threshing-wheat  time,  but  above  all  at 
corn-shucking  time,  at  hog-killing  time, 
and  at  "  harvest."  Harvest  was  spoken 
of  as  a  season.  It  was  a  festival.  The 
severest  toil  of  the  year  was  a  frolic. 
Every  a  hand  "  was  eager  for  it.  It 
was  the  test  of  the  men's  prowess  and 
the  women's  skill.  For  it  took  a  man  to 
swing  his  cradle  through  the  long  June 
davs  and  keep  pace  with  the  bare-necked, 
28 


£ 


in   Old  Virginia 

knotted-armed  leader  as  he  strode  and 
swung  his  ringing  cradle  through  the 
heavy  wheat.  So  it  demanded  a  strong 
back  and  nimble  fingers  in  the  binding 
to  "  keep  up  "  and  bind  the  sheaves, 
The  young  men  looked  forward  to  it 
as  young  bucks  look  to  the  war-path. 
How  gay  they  seemed,  moving  in  oblique 
lines  around  the  "  great  parallelograms," 
sweeping  down  the  yellow  grain,  and, 
as  they  neared  the  starting-point,  chant- 
ing with  mellow  voices  the  harvest  song 
"Cool  Water"  !  How  musical  was  the 
cadence  as,  taking  time  to  get  their  wind, 
they  whet  in  unison  their  ringing  blades  ! 
Though  the  plantations  were  large, 
so  large  that  one  master  could  not 
hear  his  neighbor's  dog  bark,  there  was 
never  any  loneliness  :  it  was  movement 
and  life  without  bustle  ;  whilst  somehow, 
in  the  midst  of  it  all,  the  house  seemed 
to  sit  enthroned  in  perpetual  tranquillity, 
with  outstretched  wings  under  its  spread- 
ing oaks,  sheltering  its  children  like  a 
great  gray  dove. 

31 


social 


Life 


Even  at  night  there  was  stirring 
about  :  the  ring  of  an  axe,  the  infec- 
tious music  of  the  banjos,  the  laughter 
of  dancers,  the  festive  noise  and  merri- 
ment of  the  cabin,  the  distant,  mellowed 
shouts  of  'coon  or  'possum  hunters,  or 
the  dirge-like  chant  of  some  serious 
and  timid  wayfarer  passing  along  the 
paths  over  the  hills  or  through  the 
woods,  and  solacing  his  lonely  walk 
with   religious   song. 

Such  was  the  outward  scene.  What 
was  there  within  r  That  which  has 
been  much  misunderstood,  —  that  which 
was  like  the  roses,  wasteful  beyond 
measure  in  its  unheeded  growth  and 
blowing,  but  sweet  beyond  measure, 
too,  and  filling  with  its  fragrance  not 
only  the  region  round  about,  but  send- 
ing it  out  unmeasuredly  on  every  breeze 
that  wandered  by. 

The  life  within  was  of  its  own  kind. 
There  were  the  master  and  the  mis- 
tress: the  old  master  and  old  mistress, 
the  young  masters  and  young  mistresses, 
32 


in  Old  Virginia 

and   the   children  ;    besides   some    aunts 
and  cousins,  and  the  relations  or  friends 


The  Exclusive  Property  of  the  Mistress. 


who  did   not   live   there,  but   were  only 
always  on  visits. 

Properly,  the  mistress  should  be  men- 
3  33 


Social   Life 

tioncd  first,  as  she  was  the  most  impor- 
tant personage  about  the  home,  the 
presence  which  pervaded  the  mansion, 
the  centre  of  all  that  life,  the  queen  of 
that  realm ;  the  master  willingly  and 
proudly  yielding  her  entire  management 
of  all  household  matters  and  simply 
carrying  out  her  directions,  confining 
his  ownership  within  the  curtilage  solely 
to  his  old  "  secretary,"  which  on  the  mis- 
tress's part  was  as  sacred  from  her  touch 
as  her  bonnet  was  from  his.  There 
were  kept  mysterious  folded  papers,  and 
equally  mysterious  parcels,  frequently 
brown  with  the  stain  of  dust  and  age. 
Had  the  papers  been  the  lost  sibylline 
leaves  instead  of  old  receipts  and  bills, 
and  had  the  parcels  contained  diamonds 
instead  of  long-dried  melon-seed  or  old 
flints,  now  out  of  date  but  once  ready 
to  serve  a  useful  purpose,  they  could 
not  have  been  more  sacredly  guarded  by 
the  mistress.  The  master  usually  had  to 
hunt  for  a  long  period  for  any  particu- 
lar paper,  whilst  the  mistress  could  in  a 
34 


in   Old  Virginia 

half-hour  have  arranged  everything  in 
perfect  order ;  but  the  chaos  was  re- 
garded bv  her  with  veneration  as  real  as 
that  with  which  she  regarded  the  mys- 
tery of  the  heavenly  bodies. 

On  the  other  hand,  outside  of  this 
piece  of  furniture  there  was  nothing  in 
the  house  of  which  the  master  even  pre- 
tended to  know.  It  was  all  in  her  keep- 
ing. Whatever  he  wanted  he  called  for, 
and  she  produced  it  with  a  certainty  and 
promptness  which  struck  him  as  a  per- 
petual miracle.  Her  system  appeared  to 
him  as  the  result  of  a  wisdom  as  pro- 
found as  that  which  fixed  and  held  the 
firmament.  He  would  not  have  dared 
to  interfere,  not  because  he  was  afraid, 
but  because  he  recognized  her  superior- 
ity. It  would  no  more  have  occurred 
to  him  to  make  a  suggestion  about  the 
management  of  the  house  than  about 
that  of  one  of  his  neighbors  ;  simplv 
because  he  knew  her  and  acknowledged 
her  infallibility.  She  was,  indeed,  a  sur- 
prising creature —  often  delicate  in  frame, 

35 


)Ocial 


Life 


and  of  a  nervous  organization  so  sensi- 
tive as  perhaps  to  be  a  great  sufferer  ; 
but  her  force  and  character  pervaded 
and  directed  everything,  as  unseen  yet  as 
unmistakably  as  the  power  of  gravity  con- 
trols the  particles  that  constitute  the  earth. 
It  has  been  assumed  by  the  outside 
world  that  our  people  lived  a  life  of 
idleness  and  ease,  a  kind  of  "  hammock- 
swung,"  "sherbet-sipping"  existence, 
fanned  by  slaves,  and,  in  their  pride, 
served  on  bended  knees.  No  conception 
could  be  further  from  the  truth.  The 
ease  of  the  master  of  a  big  plantation  was 
about  that  of  the  head  of  anv  great  estab- 
lishment where  numbers  of  operatives 
are  employed,  and  to  the  management 
of  which  are  added  the  responsibilities 
of  the  care  and  complete  mastership 
of  the  liberty  of  his  operatives  and  their 
families.  His  work  was  generally  suffi- 
ciently systematized  to  admit  of  enough 
personal  independence  to  enable  him  to 
participate  in  the  duties  of  hospitality  ; 
but  any  master  who  had  a  successfully 
36 


in   Old  Virginia 

conducted  plantation  was  sure  to  have 
given  it  his  personal  supervision  with  an 
unremitting  attention  which  would  not 
have  failed  to  secure  success  in  any  other 
calling.  It  this  was  true  of  the  master, 
it  was  much  more  so  of  the  mistress. 
The  master  might,  by  having  a  good 
overseer  and  reliable  headmen,  shift  a 
portion  of  the  burden  from  his  shoul- 
ders; the  mistress  had  no  such  means  of 
relief.  She  was  the  necessary  and  in- 
variable functionarv ;  the  keystone  of 
the  domestic  economy  which  bound  all 
the  rest  of  the  structure  and  gave  it  its 
strength  and  beauty.  From  early  morn 
till  morn  again  the  most  important  and 
delicate  concerns  of  the  plantation  were 
her  charge  and  care.  She  gave  out 
and  directed  all  the  work  of  the 
women.  From  superintending  the  set- 
ting of  the  turkevs  to  fighting  a 
pestilence,  there  was  nothing  which 
was  not  her  work.  She  was  mistress, 
manager,  doctor,  nurse,  counsellor, 
seamstress,  teacher,  housekeeper,  slave, 
37 


Social    Life 

all  at  once.  She  was  at  the  beck  and 
call  of  every  one,  especially  of  her  hus- 
band, to  whom  she  was  "guide,  phi- 
losopher, and  friend." 

One  of  them,  being  told  of  a  broken 
gate  by  her  husband,  said,  "  Well,  my 
dear,  if  I  could  sew  it  with  my  needle 
and  thread,  I  would  mend  it  for  you." 

What  she  was,  only  her  husband 
divined,  and  even  he  stood  before  her 
in  dumb,  half-amazed  admiration,  as 
he  might  before  the  inscrutable  vision  of 
a  superior  being.  What  she  really  was, 
was  known  onlv  to  God.  Her  lite  was 
one  long  act  of  devotion,  —  devotion  to 
God,  devotion  to  her  husband,  devotion 
to  her  children,  devotion  to  her  ser- 
vants, to  her  friends,  to  the  poor,  to  hu- 
manity. Nothing  happened  within  the 
range  of  her  knowledge  that  her  sym- 
pathy did  not  reach  and  her  charity  and 
wisdom  did  not  ameliorate.  She  was 
the  head  and  front  of  the  church  ;  an 
unmitred  bishop  in  partibus,  more  effec- 
tual than  the  vestry  or  deacons,  more 
38 


The  Mistress. 


in  Old  Virginia 

earnest  than  the  rector ;  she  managed 
her  family,  regulated  her  servants,  fed 
the  poor,  nursed  the  sick,  consoled  the 
bereaved.  Who  knew  of  the  visits 
she  paid  to  the  cabins  of  her  sick  and 
suffering  servants  !  often,  at  the  dead 
of  night,  "  slipping  down  "  the  last 
thing  to  see  that  her  directions  were 
carried  out  ;  with  her  own  hands  ad- 
ministering medicines  or  food  ;  ever 
by  her  cheeriness  inspiring  new  hope, 
by  her  strength  giving  courage,  by  her 
presence  awaking  faith  ;  telling  in  her 
soft  voice  to  dying  ears  the  story  of 
the  suffering  Saviour;  with  her  hope 
soothing  the  troubled  spirit,  and  light- 
ing with  her  own  faith  the  path  down 
into  the  valley  of  the  dark  shadow. 
What  poor  person  was  there,  however 
inaccessible  the  cabin,  that  was  sick 
or  destitute  and  knew  not  her  charity  ! 
Who  that  was  bereaved  that  had  not 
her  sympathy  ! 

The    training    of   her    children   was 
her    work.     She    watched    over    them, 
4i 


social 


Life 


inspired  them,  led  them,  governed 
them  ;  her  will  impelled  them  ;  her 
word  to  them,  as  to  her  servants, 
was  law.  She  reaped  the  reward. 
If  she  admired  them,  she  was  too 
wise  to  let  them  know  it  ;  but  her 
sympathy  and  tenderness  were  theirs 
always,  and   thev   worshipped   her. 

There  was  something  in  seeing  the 
master  and  mistress  obeyed  bv  the  plan- 
tation and  looked  up  to  bv  the  neighbor- 
hood which  inspired  the  children  with 
a  reverence  akin  to  awe  which  is  not 
known  at  this  present  time.  It  was 
not  till  the  young  people  were  grown 
that  this  reverence  lost  the  awe  and 
became  based  only  upon  affection  and 
admiration.  Then,  for  the  first  time, 
they  dared  to  jest  with  her  ;  then,  for 
the  first  time,  thev  took  in  that  she 
had  been  like  them  once,  young  and 
gay  and  pleasure-loving,  with  coquet- 
ries and  maidenly  ways,  with  lovers 
suing  for  her ;  and  that  she  still  took 
pleasure  in  the  recollection,  —  this  gen- 
42 


in  Old  Virginia 

tie,  classic,  serious  mother  among  her 
tall  sons  and  radiant  daughters.  How 
she  blushed  as  they  laughed  at  her  and 
teased  her  to  tell  of  her  conquests,  her 
confusion  making  her  look  younger  and 
prettier  than  they  remembered  her,  and 
opening  their  eyes  to  the  truth  of  what 
their  father  had  told  them  so  often,  that 
not  one  of  them  could  be  as  beautiful 
as  she. 

She  became  timid  and  dependent  as 
they  grew  up  and  she  found  them 
adorned  with  new  fashions  and  ways 
which  she  did  not  know ;  she  gave 
herself  up  to  their  guidance  with  an 
appealing  kind  of  diffidence  ;  was  trem- 
ulous over  her  ignorance  of  the  novel 
fashions  which  made  them  so  charm- 
ing. Yet,  when  the  exactions  of  her 
position  came  upon  her,  she  calmly 
took  the  lead,  and,  bv  her  instinctive 
dignity,  her  wisdom,  and  her  force, 
eclipsed  them  all  as  naturally  as  the 
full   moon  in  heaven   dims   the   stars. 

Such  in   part   was  the  mistress.      As 

43 


Social   Life 

to  the  master  himself,  it  is  hard  to 
generalize.  Yet  there  were  indeed 
certain  generic  characteristics,  whether 
he  was  grave  and  severe,  or  jovial  and 
easy.  There  was  the  foundation  of  a 
certain  pride  based  on  self-respect  and 
consciousness  of  power.  There  were 
nearly  always  the  firm  mouth  with  its 
strong  lines,  the  calm,  placid,  direct 
gaze,  the  quiet  speech  of  one  who  is 
accustomed  to  command  and  have  his 
command  obeyed  ;  there  was  a  contem- 
plative expression  due  to  much  commun- 
ing alone,  with  weighty  responsibilities 
resting  upon  him  ;  there  was  absolute 
self-confidence,  and  often  a  look  caused 
by  tenacity  of  opinion.  There  was  not 
a  doubtful  line  in  the  face  nor  a  doubt- 
ful tone  in  the  voice  ;  his  opinions  were 
convictions  ;  he  was  a  partisan  to  the 
backbone  ;  and  not  infrequently  he  was 
incapable  of  seeing  more  than  one  side. 
This  prevented  breadth,  but  gave  force. 
He  was  proud,  but  rarely  haughty  except 
to  dishonor.  To  that  he  was  inexo- 
44 


in   Old  Virginia 

rable.  He  believed  in  God,  he  believed 
in  his  wife,  he  believed  in  his  blood. 
He  was  chivalrous,  he  was  generous, 
he  was  usually  incapable  of  fear  or  of 
meanness.  To  be  a  Virginia  gentle- 
man was  the  first  duty  ;  it  embraced 
being  a  Christian  and  all  the  virtues. 
He  lived  as  one;  he  left  it  as  a  heri- 
tage to  his  children.  He  was  fully 
appreciative  of  both  the  honors  and  the 
responsibilities  of  his  position.  He  be- 
lieved in  a  democracy,  but  understood 
that  the  absence  of  a  titled  aristocracy 
had  to  be  supplied  by  a  class  more 
virtuous  than  he  believed  any  aristoc- 
racy to  be.  He  purposed  in  his  own 
person  to  prove  that  this  was  practi- 
cable. He  established  the  fact  that  it 
was.  This  and  other  responsibilities 
made  him  grave.  He  had  inherited 
gravity  from  his  father  and  grandfather. 
The  latter  had  been  a  performer  in  the 
greatest  work  of  modern  times,  with 
the  shadow  of  the  scaffold  over  him  if 
he  failed.  The  former  had  faced  the 
45 


>ocial 


Life 


weighty  problems  of  the  new  govern- 
ment, with  many  unsolved  questions 
ever  to  answer.  He  himself  faced  prob- 
lems not  less  grave.  The  greatness 
of  the  past,  the  time  when  Virginia 
had  been  the  mighty  power  of  the  New 
World,  loomed  ever  above  him.  It 
increased  his  natural  conservatism.  He 
saw  the  change  that  was  steadily  creep- 
ing on.  The  conditions  that  had  given 
his  class  their  power  and  prestige  had 
altered.  The  fields  were  worked  down, 
and  agriculture  that  had  made  his  class 
rich  no  longer  paid.  The  cloud  was 
already  gathering  in  the  horizon ;  the 
shadow  alreadv  was  stretching  towards 
him.  He  could  foresee  the  danger  that 
threatened  Virginia.  A  peril  ever  sat 
beside  his  door.  He  was  "holding 
the  wolf  by  the  ears."  Outside  influ- 
ences hostile  to  his  interest  were  being 
brought  to  bear.  Any  movement  must 
work  him  injury.  He  sought  the  only 
refuge  that  appeared.  He  fell  back 
behind  the  Constitution  that  his  fathers 
46 


in   Old  Virginia 

had  helped  to  establish,  and  became  a 
strict  constructionist  for  Virginia  and 
his  rights.  These  things  made  him 
grave.  He  reflected  much.  Out  on 
the  long  verandas  in  the  dusk  of  the 
summer  nights,  with  his  wide  fields 
stretching  away  into  the  gloom,  and 
"  the  woods "  bounding  the  horizon, 
his  thoughts  dwelt  upon  serious  things ; 
he  pondered  causes  and  consequences ; 
he  resolved  everything  to  prime  prin- 
ciples. He  communed  with  the  Creator 
and  his  first  work,  Nature. 

This  communion  made  him  a  won- 
derful talker.  He  discoursed  of  phi- 
losophy, politics,  and  religion.  He  read 
much,  generally  on  these  subjects,  and 
read  only  the  best.  His  bookcases 
held  the  masters  (in  mellow  Elzevirs 
and  Lintots)  who  had  been  his  father's 
friends,  and  with  whom  he  associated 
and  communed  more  intimately  than 
with  his  neighbors.  Homer,  Horace, 
Virgil,  Ovid,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Drv- 
den,  Goldsmith,  "  Mr.  Pope,"  were  his 
47 


Social   Life 

poets  ;  Plutarch,  Bacon,  Burke,  and 
Dr.  Johnson  were  his  philosophers. 
He  knew  their  teachings  and  tried  to 
pattern  himself  on  them.  These  "new 
fellows  "  that  his  sons  raved  over  he 
held  in  so  much  contempt  that  his  mere 
statement  of  their  inferiority  was  to  his 
mind  an  all-convincing  argument. 

In  religion  he  was  as  orthodox  as 
the  parson.  He  might  not  be  a  pro- 
fessing member  of  the  church ;  but 
he  was  one  of  its  pillars :  ready  to 
stand  by,  and,  if  need  were,  to  fight  to 
the  death  for  the  Thirty-nine  Articles, 
or  the  Confession  of  Faith.  Yet, 
if  he  was  generally  grave,  he  was 
at  times,  among  his  intimates  and 
guests,  jovial,  even  gay.  On  festive 
occasions  no  one  surpassed  him  in 
cheeriness.  To  a  stranger  he  was 
always  a  host,  to  a  ladv  always  a 
courtier.  When  the  house  was  full  of 
guests,  he  was  the  life  of  the  company. 
He  led  the  prettiest  girl  out  for  the 
dance.  At  Christmas  he  took  her 
48 


"  His  thoughts  d-Tveit  upon  serious  things. 


in   Old  Virginia 

under  the  mistletoe,  and  paid  her  gra- 
cious compliments  which  made  her 
blush  and  courtesy  with  dimpling  face 
and  dancing  eyes.  But  whatever  was 
his  mood,  whatever  his  surroundings, 
he  was  always  the  exponent  of  that 
grave  and  knightly  courtesy  which  un- 
der all  conditions  has  become  associated 
with  the  title  "  Virginia  gentleman." 

Whether  or  not  the  sons  were,  as 
young  men,  peculiarly  admirable  may 
be  a  question.  They  possessed  the 
faults  and  the  virtues  of  young  men 
of  their  kind  and  condition.  They 
were  given  to  self-indulgence  ;  they 
were  not  broad  in  their  limitations ; 
they  were  apt  to  contemn  what  did 
not  accord  with  their  own  established 
views  (for  their  views  were  established 
before  their  mustaches)  ;  thev  were 
wasteful  of  time  and  energies  beyond 
belief;  thev  were  addicted  to  the  pur- 
suit of  pleasure.  Thev  exhibited  the 
customary  failings  of  their  kind  in  a 
society  of  an  aristocratic  character. 
5i 


social 


Life 


But  they  possessed  in  full  measure  the 
corresponding  virtues.  They  were 
brave,  they  were  generous,  they  were 
high-spirited.  Indulgence  in  pleasure 
did  not  destroy  them.  It  was  the 
young  French  noblesse  who  affected  to 
eschew  exertion  even  to  the  point  of 
having  themselves  borne  on  litters  on 
their  boar-hunts,  and  who  yet,  with 
a  hundred  pounds  of  iron  buckled  on 
their  frames,  charged  like  furies  at 
Fontenoy.  So  these  same  languid, 
philandering  young  gentlemen,  when 
the  crucial  occasion  came,  suddenly 
appeared  as  the  most  dashing  and 
indomitable  soldiery  of  modern  times. 
It  was  the  Norfolk  company  known 
as  the  "Dandies"  that  was  extirpated 
in   a   single   day. 

But,  whatever  may  be  thought  of 
the  sons,  there  can  be  no  question  as  to 
the  daughters.  They  were  like  the 
mother;  made  in  her  own  image.  They 
filled  a  peculiar  place  in  the  civilization  ; 
the  key  was  set  to  them.  They  held  by 
52 


in  Old  Virginia 

a  universal  consent  the  first  place  in  the 
system,  all  social  life  revolving  around 
them.  So  generally  did  the  life  shape 
itself  about  the  young  girl  that  it  was 
almost  as  if  a  bit  of  the  age  of  chivalry 
had  been  blown  down  the  centuries  and 
lodged  in  the  old  State.  She  instinc- 
tively adapted  herself  to  it.  In  fact, 
she  was  made  for  it.  She  was  gently 
bred  :  her  people  for  generations  (since 
they  had  come  to  Virginia)  were  gentle- 
folk. They  were  so  well  satisfied  that 
they  had  been  the  same  in  the  mother 
country  that  they  had  never  taken  the 
trouble  to  investigate  it.  She  was  the 
incontestable  proof  of  their  gentility. 
In  right  of  her  blood  (the  beautiful 
Saxon,  tempered  by  the  influences  of 
the  genial  Southern  clime),  she  was  ex- 
quisite, fine,  beautiful  ;  a  creature  of 
peach-blossom  and  snow  ;  languid,  deli- 
cate, saucy  ;  now  imperious,  now  melt- 
ing, always  bewitching.  She  was  not 
versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  but  she 
had  no  need  to  be  ;  she  was  better  than 
53 


Social    Life 

that ;  she  was  well  bred.  She  had  not 
to  learn  to  be  a  lady,  because  she  was 
born  one.  Generations  had  given  her 
that  by  heredity.  She  grew  up  apart 
from  the  great  world.  But  ignorance 
of  the  world  did  not  make  her  provin- 
cial. Her  instinct  was  an  infallible 
guide.  When  a  child  she  had  in  her 
sunbonnet  and  apron  met  the  visitors  at 
the  front  steps  and  entertained  them  in 
the  parlor  until  her  mother  was  ready 
to  appear.  Thus  she  had  grown  up  to 
the  duties  of  hostess.  Her  manners 
were  as  perfectly  formed  as  her  mother's, 
with  perhaps  a  shade  more  self-posses- 
sion. Her  beautv  was  a  title  which 
gave  her  a  graciousness  that  well  be- 
fitted her.  She  never  u  came  out," 
because  she  had  never  been  "  in  ;  "  and 
the  line  between  girlhood  and  young- 
ladyhood  was  never  known.  She  began 
to  have  beaux  certainlv  before  she 
reached  the  line ;  but  it  did  her  no 
harm  :  she  would  herself  long  walk 
"  fancy  free."  A  protracted  devotion 
54 


in   Old  Virginia 

was  required  of  her  lovers,  and  they  be- 
gan early.  They  were  willing  to  serve 
long,  for  she  was  a  prize  worth  the  ser- 
vice. Her  beauty,  though  it  was  often 
dazzling,  was  not   her  chief  attraction. 


An  Old  Virginia  Sideboard. 


That  was  herself:  that  indefinable 
charm  ;  the  result  of  many  attractions,  in 
combination  and  perfect  harmony,  which 
made  her  herself.  She  was  delicate,  she 
was  dainty,  she  was  sweet.  She  lived 
in  an  atmosphere  created  for  her, — 
55 


Social   Life 

the  pure,  clean,  sweet  atmosphere  of  her 
country  home.  She  made  its  sunshine. 
She  was  generally  a  coquette,  often  an 
outrageous  flirt.  It  did  not  imply  heart- 
lessness.  It  was  said  that  the  worst 
flirts  made  the  most  devoted  wives.  It 
was  simply  an  instinct,  an  inheritance  ; 
it  was  in  the  life.  Her  heart  was  tender 
towards  every  living  thing  but  her 
lovers ;  even  to  them  it  was  soft  in 
every  way  but  one.  Had  they  had  a 
finger-ache,  she  would  have  sympathized 
with  them.  But  in  the  matter  of  love 
she  was  inexorable,  remorseless.  She 
played  upon  every  chord  of  the  heart. 
Perhaps  it  was  because,  when  she  gave 
up,  the  surrender  was  to  be  absolute. 
From  the  moment  ot  marriage  she  was 
the  worshipper.  Truly  she  was  a  strange 
being.  In  her  muslin  and  lawn ;  with 
her  delicious,  low,  slow,  musical  speech  ; 
accustomed  to  be  waited  on  at  every 
turn,  with  servants  to  do  her  every  bid- 
ding ;  unhabituated  often  even  to  put- 
ting on  her  dainty  slippers  or  combing 
'  56 


in   Old  Virginia 

her  soft  hair,  —  she  possessed  a  reserve 
force  which  was  astounding.  She  was 
accustomed  to  have  her  wishes  obeyed 
as  commands.  It  did  not  make  her 
imperious  ;  it  simply  gave  her  the  habit 
of  control.  At  marriage  she  was  pre- 
pared to  assume  the  duties  of  mistress 
of  her  establishment,  whether  it  were 
great   or  small. 

Thus,  when  the  time  came,  the  class 
at  the  South  which  had  been  deemed 
the  most  supine  suddenly  appeared  as 
the  most  efficient  and  the  most  indom- 
itable. The  courage  which  the  men 
displayed  in  battle  was  wonderful ;  but 
it  was  nothing  to  what  the  Southern 
women  exemplified  at  home.  There 
was,  perhaps,  not  a  doubtful  woman 
within  the  limits  of  the  Confederacy. 
Whilst  their  lovers  and  husbands 
fought  in  the  field,  they  performed 
the  harder  part  of  waiting  at  home. 
With  more  than  a  soldier's  courage 
they  bore  more  than  a  soldier's  hard- 
ship. For  four  long  years  they  listened 
57 


Social   Life 

to  the  noise  of  the  guns,  awaiting  with 
blanched  faces  but  undaunted  hearts  the 
news  of  battle  after  battle  ;  buried  their 
beloved  dead  with  tears,  and  still  amid 
their  tears  encouraged  the  survivors  to 
fight  on.  It  was  a  force  which  has  not 
been  duly  estimated.    It  was  in  the  blood. 

She  was  indeed  a  strange  creature, 
that  delicate,  dainty,  mischievous,  ten- 
der, God-fearing,  inexplicable  Southern 
girl.  With  her  fine  grain,  her  silken 
hair,  her  satiny  skin,  her  musical 
speech ;  pleasure-loving,  saucv,  be- 
witching —  deep  down  lav  the  bed- 
rock foundation  of  innate  virtue,  piety, 
and  womanliness,  on  which  were 
planted  all  for  which  human  nature 
can  hope,  and  all  to  which  it  can  aspire. 
Words  fail  to  convey  an  idea  of  what 
she  was ;  as  well  try  to  describe  the 
beauty  of  the  rose  or  the  perfume  of 
the  violet.  To  appreciate  her  one  must 
have  seen  her,  have  known  her,  have 
loved  her. 

There  are  certain  other  characters 
53 


in  Old  Virginia 

without  mention  of  which  no  picture  of 
the  social  life  of  the  South  would  be 
complete  :  the  old  mammies  and  family 
servants  about  the  house.  These  were 
important,  and  helped  to  make  the  life. 
The  Mammy  was  the  zealous,  faithful, 
and  efficient  assistant  of  the  mistress  in 
all  that  pertained  to  the  care  and  train- 
ing of  the  children.  Her  authority  was 
recognized  in  all  that  related  to  them 
directly  or  indirectly,  second  only  to 
that  of  the  Mistress  and  Master.  She 
tended  them,  regulated  them,  disciplined 
them  :  having  authority  indeed  in  cases 
to  administer  correction  ;  for  her  affec- 
tion was  undoubted.  Her  regime  ex- 
tended frequently  through  two  genera- 
tions, occasionally  through  three.  From 
their  infancy  she  was  the  careful  and 
faithful  nurse,  the  affection  between  her 
and  the  children  she  nursed  being;  often 
more  marked  than  that  between  her 
and  her  own  offspring.  She  may  have 
been  harsh  to  the  latter  ;  she  was  never 
anything  but  tender  with  the  others. 
59 


Social   Life 

Her  authority  was,  in  a  measure,  recog- 
nized through  life,  for  her  devotion  was 
unquestionable.  The  young  masters  and 
mistresses  were  her  "  children  "  long 
after  they  had  children  of  their  own. 
When  they  parted  from  her  or  met  with 
her  again  after  separation,  they  embraced 
her  with  the  same  affection  as  when  in 
childhood  she  "  led  them  smiling  into 
sleep."  She  was  worthy  of  the  affection. 
At  all  times  she  was  their  faithful  ally 
and  champion,  excusing  them,  shielding 
them,  petting  them,  aiding  them,  yet 
holding  them  up  too  to  a  certain  high 
accountability.  Her  influence  was  always 
for  good.  She  received,  as  she  gave,  an 
unqualified  affection.  If  she  was  a  slave, 
she  at  least  was  not  a  servant,  but  was 
an  honored  member  of  the  family,  uni- 
versallv  beloved,  universally  cared  for  — 
"  the  Mammy." 

Next  to  her  in  importance  and  rank 
were  the  Butler  and  the  Carriage-driver, 
These  with  the  Mammy  were  the  aris- 
tocrats  of  the   family,  who  trained  the 
60 


"  She  <was  never  anything  but  tender  with  the  others." 


in  Old  Virginia 

children  in  good  manners  and  other  ex- 
ercises ;  and  uncompromising  aristocrats 
they  were.  The  Butler  was  apt  to  be  V 
severe,  and  was  feared  ;  the  Driver  was 
genial  and  kindly,  and  was  adored.  I 
recall  a  butler,  "  Uncle  Tom,"  an  aus- 
tere gentleman,  who  was  the  terror  of 
the  juniors  of  the  connection.  One  of 
the  children,  after  watching  him  furtively 
as  he  moved  about  with  grand  air,  when 
he  had  left  the  room  and  his  footsteps 
had  died  away,  crept  over  and  asked  her 
grandmother,  his  mistress,  in  an  awed 
whisper,  "Grandma,  are  you  'fraid  of 
Unc'  Tom  ? " 

The  Driver  was  the  ally  of  the  boys, 
the  worshipper  of  the  girls,  and  conse- 
quently had  an  ally  in  their  mother,  the 
mistress.  As  the  head  of  the  stable, 
he  was  an  important  personage.  This 
comradeship  was  never  forgotten  ;  it 
lasted  through  life.  The  years  might 
grow  on  him,  his  eyes  might  become 
dim  ;  but  he  was  left  in  command  even 
when  he  was  too  feeble  to  hold  the 
63 


Social   Life 

horses  ;  and  though  he  might  no  longer 
grasp  the  reins,  he  at  least  held  the  title, 
and  to  the  end  was  always  w  the  Driver 
of  Mistiss's  carriage." 

Other  servants  too  there  were  with 
special  places  and  privileges, — gardeners 
and  "  boys  about  the  house,"  comrades 
of  the  bovs  ;  and  "  own  maids,"  for 
each  girl  had  her  "  own  maid."  Thev 
all  formed  one  great  family  in  the  social 
structure  now  passed  awav,  a  struc- 
ture incredible  by  those  who  knew  it 
not,  and  now,  under  new  conditions, 
almost  incredible  by  those  who  knew 
it  best. 

The  social  life  formed  of  these  ele- 
ments combined  was  one  of  singular 
sweetness  and  freedom  from  vice.  If  it 
was  not  filled  with  excitement,  it  was 
replete  with  happiness  and  content.  It 
is  asserted  that  it  was  narrow.  Perhaps 
it  was.  It  was  so  sweet,  so  charming, 
that  it  is  little  wonder  if  it  asked  noth- 
ing more  than  to  be  let  alone. 

Thev  who   lived    it  were   a  careless 
64 


;'  T/ie  Butler  ivas  apt  to  be  severe,   and  <w< 
feared. ' '    . 


in  Old  Virginia 

and  pleasure-loving  people ;  but,  as  in 
most  rural  communities,  their  festivities 
were  free  from  dissipation.  There  was 
sometimes  too  great  an  indulgence  on 
the  part  of  young  men  in  the  State 
drink,  the  julep  ;  but  whether  it  was 
that  it  killed  early,  or  that  it  was  usually 
abandoned  as  the  responsibilities  of  life 
increased,  an  elderly  man  of  dissipated 
habits  was  almost  unknown.  They  were 
fond  of  sport,  and  excelled  in  it,  being 
generally  fine  riders,  good  shots,  and 
skilled  hunters.  Love  of  horses  was  a 
race  characteristic,  and  fine  horseman- 
ship was  a  thing  little  considered  only 
because  it  was  universal. 

The  life  was  gay.  In  addition  to  the 
perpetual  round  of  ordinary  entertain- 
ment, there  was  alwavs  on  hand  or  in 
prospect  some  more  formal  festivity, — 
a  club  meeting,  a  fox-hunt,  a  party,  a 
tournament,  a  wedding.  Little  excuse 
was  needed  to  bring  people  together 
where  every  one  was  social,  and  where 
the  great  honor  was  to  be  the  host. 
67 


Social    Life 

Scientific  horse-racing  was  confined  to 
the  regular  race-tracks,  where  the  races 
were  not  dashes,  but  tour-mile  heats 
which  tested  speed  and  bottom  alike. 
But  good  blood  was  common,  and 
even  a  ride  with  a  girl  in  an  after- 
noon meant  generally  a  dash  along  the 
level  through  the  woods,  where,  truth 
to  tell,  Miss  Atalanta  was  very  apt  tu 
win.  Occasionally  there  was  even  a 
dash  from  the  church.  The  high- 
swung  carriages,  having  received  their 
precious  loads  of  lily-fingered,  pink- 
faced,  laughing  girls  with  teeth  like 
pearls  and  eves  like  stars,  helped  in  by 
young  men  who  would  have  thrown  not 
only  their  cloaks  but  their  hearts  into 
the  mud  to  keep  those  dainty  feet  from 
being  soiled,  would  go  ahead  ;  and  then, 
the  restive  saddle-horses  being  untied 
from  the  swinging  limbs,  the  young 
gallants  would  mount,  and,  bv  an  in- 
stinctive common  impulse,  starting  all 
together,  would  make  a  dash  to  the 
first  hill,  on  top  of  which  the  dust  still 
68 


in  Old  Virginia 

lingered,  a  golden  nimbus  thrown  from 
the  wheels  that  rolled  their  goddesses. 

The  chief  sport,  however,  was  fox- 
hunting. It  was,  in  season,  almost 
universal.  Who  that  lived  in  that  time 
does  not  remember  the  fox-hunts,  —  the 
eager  chase  after  "grays"  or  "old 
reds  "  !  The  grays  furnished  more  fun, 
the  reds  more  excitement.  The  grays 
did  not  run  so  far,  but  usually  kept  near 
home,  going  in  a  circuit  of  six  or  eight 
miles.  "  An  old  red,"  generally  so 
called  irrespective  of  age,  as  a  tribute  to 
his  prowess,  might  lead  the  dogs  all  day, 
and  end  bv  losing  them  as  evening 
fell,  after  taking  them  a  dead  stretch 
for  thirty  miles.  The  capture  of  a  grav 
was  what  men  boasted  of;  a  chase 
after  "  an  old  red "  was  what  they 
"  yarned  "  about.  Some  old  reds  be- 
came historical  characters,  and  were  as 
well  known  and  as  much  discussed  in  the 
counties  thev  inhabited  as  the  leaders  of 
the  bar  or  the  crack  speakers  of  the 
circuit.  The  wiles  and  guiles  of  each 
7i 


Social   Life 

veteran  were  the  pride  of  his  neighbors 
and  hunters.  Many  of  them  had  names. 
Gentlemen  discussed  them  at  their  club 
dinners  ;  lawyers  told  stories  about 
them  in  the  "  Lawyers'  Rooms  "  at  the 
court-houses;  young  men,  while  they 
waited  for  the  preacher  to  get  well  into 
the  service  before  going  into  church, 
bragged  about  them  in  the  churchyards 
on  Sundays.  There  was  one  such  that 
I  remember :  he  was  known  as  "  Nat 
Turner,"  after  the  notorious  leader  of 
"Nat  Turner's  Rebellion,"  who  re- 
mained in  hiding  for  weeks  after  all 
his  followers  were  taken. 

Great  frolics  these  hunts  were ;  for 
there  were  the  prettiest  girls  in  the 
world  in  the  country  houses  round 
about,  and  each  young  fellow  was  sure 
to  have  in  his  heart  some  brown  or 
blue-eyed  maiden  to  whom  he  had 
promised  the  brush,  and  to  whom,  with 
feigned  indifference  but  with  mantling; 
cheek  and  beating  heart,  he  would  carry 
it  if,  as  he  counted  on  doing,  he  should 
72 


in  Old  Virginia 

win  it.  Sometimes  the  girls  came  over 
themselves  and  rode,  or  more  likely 
were  already  there  visiting,  and  the 
beaux  simply  followed  them  bv  a  law 
as  immutable  as  that  by  which  the 
result  follows  the  premises  in  a  mathe- 
matical  proposition. 

Even  the  boys  had  their  lady-loves, 
and  rode  for  them  on  the  colts  or 
mules  :  not  the  small  girls  of  their  own 
age  (no  "  little  girls  "  for  them  !).  Their 
sweethearts  were  grown  voung  ladies, 
with  smiling  eves  and  silken  hair  and 
graceful  mien,  whom  their  grown 
cousins  courted,  and  whom  they  with 
their  bens'  hearts  worshipped.  Often 
a  half-dozen  were  in  love  with  one  — 
always  the  prettiest  one  —  and,  with 
the  generous  spirit  of  boys  in  whom  the 
selfish  instinct  has  not  yet  awakened, 
agreed  among  themselves  that  they 
would  all  ride  for  her,  and  that  which- 
ever got  the  brush  should  present  it  on 
behalf  of  all. 

What  a  gallant  sight  it  was  !  The  ap- 
73 


>ocial 


Life 


pearance  of  the  hunters  on  the  far  hill, 
in  the  evening,  with  their  packs  sur- 
rounding them  !  Who  does  not  recall 
the  excitement  at  the  house  ;  the  arrival 
in  the  yard,  with  horns  blowing,  hounds 
baying,  horses  prancing,  and  girls  laugh- 
ing ;  the  picture  of  the  young  ladies  on 
the  front  portico  with  their  arms  round 
each  other's  dainty  waists,  — the  slender, 
pretty  figures,  the  bright  faces,  the 
sparkling  eves,  the  gay  laughter  and 
musical  voices,  as  with  coquettish  merri- 
ment they  challenged  the  riders,  de- 
manding to  blow  the  horns  themselves 
or  to  ride  some  specially  handsome 
horse  next  morning  !  The  way,  the 
challenge  being  accepted,  they  tripped 
down  the  steps,  —  some  with  little 
screams  shrinking  from  the  bounding 
dogs;  one  or  two  with  stouter  hearts, 
fixed  upon  higher  game,  bravely  ignoring 
them  and  leaving  their  management  to 
their  masters,  who  at  their  approach 
sprang  to  the  ground  to  meet  them,  hat 
in  hand  and  the  telltale  blood  mounting 
74 


An   Old-fashioned  Grist-Mill. 


in   Old  Virginia 

to  their  sunburned  faces,  handsome  with 
the  beauty   and   pride   of  youth  ! 

I  am  painfully  aware  of  the  inade- 
quacy of  my  picture.  But  who  could 
do  justice   to  the  truth  ! 

It  was  owing  to  all  these  and  some 
other  characteristics  that  the  life  was 
what  it  was.  It  was  on  a  charming 
key.  It  possessed  an  ampleness  and 
generosity  which  were  not  splendid 
because  they  were  too  genuine  and 
refined. 

Hospitality  had  become  a  recognized 
race  characteristic,  and  was  practised  as 
a  matter  of  course.  It  was  universal ; 
it  was  spontaneous.  It  was  one  of  the 
distinguishing  features  of  the  civiliza- . 
tion  ;  as  much  a  part  of  the  social  life 
as  any  other  of  the  domestic  relations. 
Its  generosity  secured  it  a  distinctive 
title.  The  exactions  it  entailed  were 
engrossing.  Its  exercise  occupied  much 
of  the  time,  and  exhausted  much  of  the 
means.  The  constant  intercourse  of 
the  neighborhood,  with  its  perpetual 
77 


Social    Life 

round  of  dinners,  teas,  and  entertain- 
ments, was  supplemented  by  visits  of 
friends  and  relatives  from  other  sections, 
who  came  with  their  families,  their 
equipages,  and  personal  servants,  to 
spend  a  month  or  two,  or  as  long  a 
time  as  they  pleased.  A  dinner  invita- 
tion was  not  so  designated.  It  was, 
with  more  exactitude,  termed  "  spend- 
ing the  day."  On  Sundays  every  one 
invited  every  one  else  from  church,  and 
there  would  be  long  lines  of  carriages 
passing  in  at  the  open  gates. 

It  is  a  mystery  how  the  house  ever 
held  the  visitors.  Only  the  mistress 
knew.  Her  resources  were  enormous. 
The  rooms,  with  their  low  ceilings, 
were  wide,  and  had  a  holding  capacity 
which  was  simply  astounding.  The 
walls  seemed  to  be  made  of  india-rubber, 
so  great  was  their  stretching  power. 
No  one  who  came,  whether  friend  or 
stranger,  was  ever  turned  away.  If  the 
beds  were  full — as  when  were  they 
not  !  —  pallets  were  put  down  on  the 
78 


in  Old  Virginia 

floor  in  the  parlor  or  the  garret  for 
the  younger  members  of  the  family, 
sometimes  even  the  passages  being 
utilized.  Frequently  at  Christmas  the 
master  and  mistress  were  compelled  to 
resort  to  the  same  refuge. 

It  was  this  intercourse,  following  the 
intermarriage  and  class  feeling  of  the 
old  families,  which  made  Virginians 
clannish,  and  caused  a  single  distinguish- 
able common  strain  of  blood,  however 
distant,  to  be  recognized  and  counted  as 
kinship. 

Perhaps  this  universal  entertainment 
might  not  now  be  considered  elegant. 
Let  us  see. 

It  was  based  upon  a  sentiment  as 
pure  and  unselfish  as  can  animate  the 
human  mind,  —  upon  kindness.  It  was 
easy,  generous,  and  refined.  The  man- 
ners of  entertainers  and  entertained 
alike  were  gentle,  cordial,  simple,  with, 
to  strangers,  a  slight  trace  of  stateliness. 
The  best  the  hosts  had  was  given  ;  no 
more  was  required. 
79 


S-Ocial   Life 

The  conversation  was  surprising ;  it 
was  of  the  crops,  the  roads,  history,  lit- 
erature, politics,  mutual  friends,  includ- 
ing the  entire  held  of  neighborhood 
matters,  related  not  as  gossip,  but  as 
affairs  of  common  interest,  which  every 
one  knew  or  was  expected  and  entitled 
to  know. 

Among  the  ladies,  the  fashions  came 
in,  of  course,  embracing  particularly 
"  patterns." 

Politics  took  the  place  of  honor 
among  the  gentlemen,  their  range 
embracing  not  only  State  and  national 
politics,  but  British  as  well,  as  to  which 
thev  possessed  astonishing  knowledge, 
interest  in  English  matters  having  been 
handed  down  from  father  to  son  as  a 
/  class  test.  "  My  father's "  opinion 
was  quoted  as  conclusive  authoritv  on 
this  and  all  points,  and  in  matters  of 
great  importance  historically  "my  grand- 
father, sir,"  was  cited.  The  peculiarity 
of  the  whole  was  that  it  was  cast  on  a 
high  plane,  and  possessed  a  literary 
80 


in  Old  Virginia 


flavor  of  a  high  order ;   for,  as  has  been 
said,    the    classics,    Latin    and   English, 
with    a     fair  sprinkling    of    good    old 
French    authors,    were 
in   the  bookcases,  and 
were     there     not     for 
show,    but     for     com- 
panionship.       There 
was   nothing  for  show 
in  that  life ;   it  was  all 
genuine,  real,  true. 

They  had  preserved 
the  old  customs  that 
their  fathers  had  brought 
with  them  from  the 
mother  country.  The 
great  fete  of  the  people, 
was  Christmas.  Spring 
had  its  special  delights, 
—  horse  -  back  rides 
through  the  budding 
woods,  with  the  birds  singing  ;  fishing 
parties  down  on  the  little  rivers,  with 
out-of-doors  lunches  and  love-making ; 
parties  of  various  kinds  from  house  to 
6  81 


A  Colonial  Stove. 


Social   Life 

house.      Summer    had    its   pleasures, 

handsome  dinners,  and  teas  with  moon- 
light strolls  and  rides  to  follow ;  visits 
to  or  from  relatives,  or  even  to  the  White 
Sulphur  Springs,  called  simply  "  the 
White."  The  Fall  had  its  pleasures. 
But  all  times  and  seasons  paled  and 
dimmed  before  the  festive  joys  of 
Christmas.  It  had  been  handed  down 
for  generations  ;  it  belonged  to  the  race. 
It  had  come  over  with  their  forefathers. 
It  had  a  peculiar  significance.  It  was  a 
title.  Religion  had  given  it  its  bene- 
diction. It  was  the  time  to  "Shout 
the  glad  tidings."  It  was  The  Holi- 
days. There  were  other  holidavs  for 
the  slaves,  both  of  the  school-room  and 
the  plantation,  such  as  Easter  and 
Whit-Monday  ;  but  Christmas  was  dis- 
tinctively "  The  Holidays."  Then  the 
bovs  came  home  from  school  or  college 
with  their  friends  ;  the  members  of  the 
family  who  had  moved  awav  returned  ; 
prettv  cousins  came  for  the  festivities  ; 
the  neighborhood  grew  merry.  The 
82 


in   Old  Virginia 

negroes  were  all  to  have  holiday,  the 
house-servants  taking  turn  and  turn 
about,  and  the  plantation,  long  before 
the  time,  made  ready  for  Christmas 
cheer.  It  was  by  all  the  younger 
population  looked  back  to  half  the 
year,  looked  forward  to  the  other 
half.  Time  was  measured  by  it  :  it 
was  either  so  long  "  since  Christmas," 
or  so  long  "■  before  Christmas."  The 
affairs  of  the  plantation  were  set  in 
order  against  it.  The  corn  was  got  in  ; 
the  hogs  were  killed  ;  the  lard  "  tried  ;  " 
sausage-meat  made  ;  mince-meat  pre- 
pared ;  turkeys  fattened,  with  "  the 
big  gobbler"  specially  devoted  to  the 
"  Christmas  dinner  ;  "  the  servants' 
winter  clothes  and  new  shoes  stored 
away  ready  for  distribution  ;  and  the 
plantation  began  to  be  ready  to  prepare 
for  Christmas. 

In  the  first  place,  there  was  generally 

a  cold  spell  which    froze  up   everything 

and  enabled  the   ice-houses  to  be  filled. 

(The  seasons,  like   a   good   many   other 

83 


Social    Life 

things,  appear  to  have  changed  since 
that  old  time  before  the  war.)  This 
spell  was  the  harbinger ;  and  great  fun 
it  was  at  the  ice-pond,  where  the  big 
rafts  of  ice  were  floated  along,  with  the 
boys  on  them.  The  rusty  skates  with 
their  curled  runners  and  stiff  straps  were 
gotten  ut,  and  maybe  tried  for  a  day. 
Then  the  stir  beg-an.  The  wagons  all 
were  put  to  hauling  wood  —  hickory. 
Nothing  but  hickory  now  ;  other  wood 
might  do  for  other  times.  Rut  at 
Christmas  only  hickory  was  used  ;  and 
the  wood-pile  was  heaped  high  with  the 
logs  ;  while  to  the  ordinary  wood-cutters 
"  for  the  house  "  were  added  three,  four, 
a  half-dozen  more,  whose  shining  axes 
rang  around  the  wood-pile  all  day  long. 
With  what  a  vim  they  cut,  and  how 
telling  was  that  earnest  "  Ha 'nh  !  "  as 
they  drove  the  ringing  axes  into  the 
hard  wood,  sending  the  big  white  chips 
flying  in  all  directions  !  Jt  was  always 
the  envy  of  the  boys,  that  simulta- 
neous, ostentatious  expulsion  of  the 
84 


in   Old  Virginia 

breath,  and  they  used  to  try  vainly  to 
imitate   it. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all  came  the 
wagon  or  the  ox-cart  from  "  the  depot," 
with  the  big  white  boxes  of  Christmas 
things,  the  black  driver  feigning  hypo- 
critical indifference  as  he  drove  through 
the  choppers  to  the  storeroom.  Then 
came  the  rush  of  all  the  cutters  to  help 
him  unload ;  the  jokes  among  them- 
selves, as  thev  pretended  to  strain  in 
lifting,  of  what  "  master  "  or  "  mistis  " 
was  going  to  give  them  out  of  those 
boxes,  uttered  just  loud  enough  to 
reach  their  master's  or  mistress's  ears 
where  they  stood  looking  on,  whilst  the 
driver  took  due  advantage  of  his  tem- 
porarv  prestige  to  give  many  pompous 
cautions   and  directions. 

The  getting  the  evergreens  and  mistle- 
toe was  the  sign  that  Christmas  had 
come,  was  reallv  here.  There  were 
the  parlor  and  hall  and  dining-room  to 
be  "  dressed,"  and,  above  all,  the  old 
church.  The  last  was  the  work  of  the 
85 


Social   Life 

neighborhood ;  all  united  in  it,  and  it 
was  one  of  the  events  of  the  year. 
Young  men  rode  thirty  and  forty  miles 
to  "  help  "  dress  that  church.  They  did 
not  go  home  again  till  after  Christmas. 

The  return  from  the  church  was  the 
beginning  of  the  festivities. 

Then  by  "  Christmas  Eve's  eve  "  the 
wood  was  all  cut  and  stacked  high  in 
the  wood-house  and  on  and  under  the 
back  porticos,  so  as  to  be  handy,  and 
secure  from  the  snow  which  was  almost 
certain  to  come.  It  seems  that  Christ- 
mas was  almost  sure  to  bring  it  in  old 
times  ;  at  least  it  is  closely  associated 
with  it.  The  excitement  increased; 
the  boxes  were  unpacked,  some  of  them 
openly,  to  the  general  delight ;  others 
with  a  mysterious  secrecy  which  stimu- 
lated curiosity  to  its  highest  point  and 
added  immeasurably  to  the  charm  of 
the  occasion.  The  kitchen  filled  up 
with  assistants  famed  for  special  skill  in 
particular  branches  of  the  cook's  art, 
who  bustled  about  with  glistening  faces 
86 


Dressing  the  Church. 


in   Old  Virginia 

and  shining  teeth,  proud  of  their  eleva- 
tion and  eager  to  prove  their  merits  and 
add  to  the  general  cheer. 

It  was  now  Christmas  Eve.  From 
time  to  time  the  "  hired  out  "  servants 
came  home  from  Richmond  or  other 
places  where  they  had  been  hired  or  had 
hired  out  themselves,  their  terms  having 
been  by  common  custom  framed,  with 
due  regard  to  their  rights  to  the  holiday,' 
to  expire  in  time  for  them  to  spend  the 
Christmas  at  home.1  There  was  much 
hilarity  over  their  arrival,  and  thev  were 
welcomed  like  members  of  the  familv  as, 
with  their  new  winter  clothes  donned  a 
little  ahead  of  time,  they  came  to  pay 
"bespec's  to  master  and  mistis." 

Then  the  vehicles  went  off  to  the  dis- 
tant station  for  the  visitors  —  the  visitors 
and  the  boys.  Oh  the  excitement  of 
that !  at  first  the  drag  of  the  long  hours, 
and  then  the  eager  expectancy  as  the 
time   approached    for  their  return  ;   the 

1  The  hiring  contracts  ran  from  New  Year 
to  Christmas. 


Social   Life 

"  making  up  "  of  the  fires  in  the  visitors' 
rooms  (of  the  big  fires  ;  there  had  been 
fires  there  all  day  "  to  air  "  them,  but 
now  they  must  be  made  up  afresh) ; 
the  hurrying  backwards  and  forwards 
of  the  servants  ;  the  feverish  impatience 
of  every  one,  especially  of  the  children, 
who  are  sure  the  train  is  "  late  "  or 
that  something  has  "  happened,"  and 
who  run  and  look  up  towards  the  big 
gate  every  five  minutes,  notwithstand- 
ing the  mammy's  oft-repeated  caution 
that  a  "watch'  pot  never  b'iles." 
There  was  one  exception  to  the  gen- 
eral excitement :  the  Mistress,  calm, 
deliberate,  unperturbed,  moved  about 
with  her  usual  serene  composure,  her 
watchful  eve  seeing  that  evervthing 
was  "  ready."  Her  orders  had  been 
given  and  her  arrangements  made 
days  before,  such  was  her  system. 
The  voung  ladies,  having  finished 
dressing  the  parlor  and  hall,  had  dis- 
appeared. Satisfied  at  last  with  their 
work,  after  innumerable  final  touches, 
90 


in   Old   Virginia 

every  one  of  which  was  an  undeniable 
improvement  to  that  which  had  already 
appeared  perfect,  thev  had  suddenly 
vanished  —  vanished  as  completely  as 
a  dream  —  to  appear  again  later  on  at 
the  parlor  door,  radiant  visions  of  love- 
liness, or,  maybe,  if  certain  visitors  un- 
expectedly arrived,  to  meet  accidentally 
in  the  less  embarrassing  and  safer  pre- 
cincts of  the  dimly  lighted  halls  or 
passages.  When  they  appeared,  what 
a  transformation  had  taken  place  !  If 
they  were  bewitching  before,  now  they 
were  entrancing.  The  gav,  laughing, 
saucy  creature  who  had  been  dressing 
the  parlors  and  hanging  the  mistletoe 
with  many  jests  and  parries  of  the  half- 
veiled  references  was  now  a  demure  or 
stately  maiden  in  all  the  dignity  of  a  new 
gown  and  with  all  the  graciousness  of  a 
young  countess. 

But  this  is  after  the  carriages   return. 

They  have   not   vet  arrived.      They  are 

late  —  thev  are   always  late  —  and  it   is 

dark    before    thev    come  ;   the    glow   of 

91 


Social   Life 

the  fires  and  candles  shines  out  through 
the  windows  on  the  snow,  often  black- 
ened by  the  shadows  of  little  figures 
whose  noses  are  pressed  to  the  cold 
panes,  which  grow  blurred  with  their 
warm  breath.  Meantime  the  carriages, 
piled  outside  and  in,  are  slowly  making 
their  way  homeward  through  the  frozen 
roads,  followed  by  the  creaking  wagon 
filled  with  trunks,  on  which  are  haply 
perched  small  muffled  figures,  whose 
places  in  the  carriages  are  taken  by 
unexpected  guests.  The  drivers  still 
keep  up  a  running  fire  with  their  young 
masters,  though  thev  have  long  since 
been  pumped  dry  as  to  every  conceiv- 
able matter  connected  with  "  home," 
in  return  for  which  thev  receive  infor- 
mation as  to  school  and  college  pranks. 
At  last  the  "  big  gate "  is  reached ;  a 
half-frozen  figure  rolls  out  and  runs  to 
open  it,  flapping  his  arms  in  the  dark- 
ness like  some  strange,  uncanny  bird  ; 
thev  pass  through  ;  the  gleam  of  a  light 
shines  away  off  on  a  far  hill.  The 
92 


in   Old  Virginia 

shout  goes  up,  "  There  she  is ;  I  see 
her ! "  The  light  is  lost,  but  a  little 
later  appears  again.  It  is  the  light  in 
the  mother's  chamber,  the  curtains  of 
the  windows  of  which  have  been  left  up 
intentionally,  that  the  welcoming  gleam 
may  be  seen  afar  off  bv  her  boys  on  the 
first  hill  —  a  blessed  beacon  shining 
from   home   and   her   mother's    heart. 

Across  the  white  fields  the  dark 
vehicles  move,  then  toil  up  the  house 
hill,  filled  with  their  eager  occupants, 
who  can  scarce  restrain  themselves  ; 
approach  the  house,  by  this  time  glow- 
ing with  lighted  windows,  and  enter 
the  vard  just  as  the  doors  open  and  a 
swarm  rushes  out  with  joyful  cries  of, 
"Here  they  are!"  "Yes,  here  we 
are  !  "  comes  in  cheery  answer,  and 
one  after  another  thev  roll  or  step  out, 
according  to  age  and  dignity,  and  run 
up  the  steps,  stamping  their  feet,  the 
boys  to  be  taken  fast  into  motherly 
arms,  and  the  visitors  to  be  given 
warm  handclasps  and  cordial  welcomes. 
95 


Social    Life 

Later  on  the  children  were  got  to 
bed,  scarce  able  to  keep  in  their  pallets 
for  excitement ;  the  stockings  were  all 
hung  up  over  the  big  fireplace ;  and 
the  grown  people  grew  gay  in  the 
crowded  parlors.  There  was  no  splen- 
dor, nor  show,  nor  style  as  it  would  be 
understood  now.  Had  there  been,  it 
could  not  have  been  so  charming. 
There  were  only  profusion  and  sin- 
cerity, heartiness  and  gayetv,  cordiality 
and  cheer,  and  withal  genuineness  and 
refinement. 

Next  morning  the  stir  beo;an  before 
light.  White-clad  little  figures  stole 
about  in  the  gloom,  with  bulging  stock- 
ings clasped  to  their  bosoms,  opening 
doors,  shouting  "  Christmas  gift  !  "  into 
dark  rooms  at  sleeping  elders,  and  then 
scurrying  awav  like  so  many  white 
mice,  squeaking  with  delight,  to  rake 
open  the  embers  and  inspect  their  treas- 
ures. At  prayers,  u  Shout  the  glad  tid- 
ings "  was  sung  by  fresh  young  voices 
with  due  fervor. 

96 


in   Old  Virginia 

How  gay  the  scene  was  at  breakfast ! 
What  pranks  had  been  performed  in 
the  name  of  Santa  Claus  !  Every 
foible  had  been  played  on.  What 
lovely  telltale  blushes  and  glances  and 
laughter  greeted  the  confessions  !  The 
larger  part  of  the  day  was  spent  in 
going  to  and  coming  from  the  beauti- 
fully dressed  church,  where  the  service 
was  read,  and  the  anthems  and  hymns 
were  sung  by  every  one,  for  every  one 
was  happy. 

But,  as  in  the  beginning  of  things, 
"  the  evening  and  the  morning  were 
the  first  day."  Dinner  was  the  great 
event.  It  was  the  test  of  the  mistress 
and  the  cook,  or,  rather,  the  cooks  ;  for 
the  kitchen  now  was  full  of  them.  It 
is  impossible  to  describe  it.  The  old 
mahogany  table,  stretched  diagonally 
across  the  dining-room,  groaned  ;  the 
big  gobbler  filled  the  place  of  honor  ; 
a  great  round  of  beef  held  the  second 
place ;  an  old  ham,  with  every  other 
dish  that  ingenuitv,  backed  by  long 
7  97 


Social   Life 

experience,  could  devise,  was  at  the 
side,  and  the  shining  sideboard,  gleam- 
ing with  glass,  scarcely  held  the  dessert. 
The  butler  and  his  assistants  were  super- 
naturally  serious  and  slow',  which  be- 
spoke plainly  too  frequent  a  recourse 
to  the  apple-toddy  bowl  ;  but  under 
the  stimulus  ot  the  mistress's  eye,  they 
got  through  all  right,  and  their  slight 
unsteadiness  was   overlooked. 

It  was  then  that  the  fun  began. 

After  dinner  there  were  apple-toddy 
and  egg-nog,  as  there  had  been  before. 

There  were  games  and  dances  — 
country  dances,  the  lancers  and  quad- 
rilles. The  top  of  the  old  piano  was 
lifted  up,  and  the  infectious  dancing- 
tunes  rolled  out  under  the  flying  fingers. 
Haplv  there  was  some  demur  on  the 
part  of  the  elder  ladies,  who  were  not 
quite  sure  that  it  was  right  ;  but  it  was 
overruled  bv  the  gentlemen,  and  the 
master  in  his  frock  coat  and  high  collar 
started  the  ball  by  catching  the  prettiest 
girl  by  the  hand  and  leading  her  to  the 
93 


The   Virginia   Reel. 


in  Old  Virginia 

head  of  the  room  right  under  the  noses 
of  half  a  dozen  bashful  lovers,  calling 
to  them  meantime  to  "  get  their  sweet- 
hearts and  come  along."  Round  danc- 
ing was  not  yet  introduced.  It  was 
regarded  as  an  innovation,  if  nothing 
worse.  It  was  held  generally  as  highly 
improper,  bv  some  as  "  disgusting." 
As  to  the  german,  why,  had  it  been 
known,  the  very  name  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  damn  it.  Nothing 
foreign  in  that  civilization  !  There  was 
fun  enough  in  the  old-fashioned  country 
dances,  and  the  "  Virginia  reel  "  at  the 
close.  Whoever  could  not  be  satisfied 
with  that  was  hard  to  please. 

But  it  was  not  only  in  the  "great 
house  "  that  there  was  Christmas  cheer. 
Every  cabin  was  full  of  it,  and  in 
the  wash-house  or  the  carpenter-shop 
there  was  preparation  for  a  plantation 
supper. 

At  this  time,  too,  there  were  the 
negro  parties,  where  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen   went    to    look   on,   the   sup- 

IOI 


Social   Life 

per  having  been  superintended  by  the 
mistresses,  and  the  tables  being  deco- 
rated by  their  own  white  hands. 
There  was  almost  sure  to  be  a  negro 
wedding  during  the  holidays.  The 
ceremony  might  be  performed  in  the 
dining-room  or  in  the  hall  by  the 
master,  or  in  one  ot  the  quarters  by  a 
colored  preacher  ;  but  it  was  a  gay  oc- 
casion, and  the  dusky  bride's  trousseau 
had  been  arranged  by  her  young  mis- 
tress, and  the  family  was  on  hand  to 
get  fun  out  of  the  entertainment,  and 
to  recognize  by  their  presence  the 
solemnity   of  the   tie. 

Other  weddings  there  were,  too, 
sometimes  following  these  Christmas 
gayeties,  and  sometimes  occurring  "  just 
so,"  because  the  girls  were  the  loveliest 
in  the  world,  and  the  men  were  lovers 
almost  from  their  boyhood.  How 
beautiful  our  mothers  must  have  been 
in  their  youth  to  have  been  so  beautiful 
in  their  age  ! 

There  were  no  long  journeys  for  the 

102 


in  Old  Virginia 

young  married  folk  in  those  times  ;  the 
travelling  was  usually  done  before  mar- 
riage. When  a  wedding  took  place, 
however,  the  entire  neighborhood  enter- 
tained the  young  couple. 

Truly  it  was  a  charming  life.  There 
was  a  vast  waste  ;  but  it  was  not  loss. 
Every  one  had  food,  every  one  had  rai- 
ment, every  one  had  peace.  There 
was  not  wealth  in  the  base  sense  in 
which  we  know  it  and  strive  for  it  and 
trample  down  others  for  it  now.  But 
there  was  wealth  in  the  good  old  sense 
in  which  the  litany  of  our  fathers  used 
it.  There  was  weal.  There  was  the 
best  of  all  wealth  ;  there  was  content, 
and  "a  quiet  mind  is  richer  than  a 
crown." 

We  have  gained  something  by  the 
change.  The  South  under  her  new 
conditions  will  in  time  grow  rich,  will 
wax  fat ;  nevertheless  we  have  lost 
much.  How  much  only  those  who 
knew  it  can  estimate;  to  them  it  was 
inestimable. 

i°5 


L- 


Social   Life 

That  the  social  life  of  the  Old  South 
had  its  faults  I  am  far  from  denying. 
What  civilization  has  not  ?  But  its 
virtues  far  outweighed  them ;  its  graces 
were  never  equalled.  For  all  its  faults, 
it  was,  I  believe,  the  purest,  sweetest 
life  ever  lived.  It  has  been  claimed 
that  it  was  non-productive,  that  it  fos- 
tered sterility.  Only  ignorance  or  folly 
could  make  the  assertion.  It  largely 
contributed  to  produce  this  nation ;  it 
led  its  armies  and  its  navies ; /it  es- 
tablished this  government  so  firmly  that 
not  even  it  could  overthrow  it ;  it 
opened  up  the  great  West ;  it  added 
Louisiana  and  Texas,  and  more  than 
trebled  our  territory ;  it  christianized 
the  negro  race  in  a  little  over  two  cen- 
turies, impressed  upon  it  regard  for 
order,  and  gave  it  the  only  civilization 
it  has  ever  possessed  since  the  dawn  of 
history.  It  has  maintained  the  suprem- 
acy of  the  Caucasian  race,  upon  which 
all  civilization  seems  now  to  depend.  It 
produced  a  people  whose  heroic  fight 
1 06 


■  --- .  »-<■-:■ 


^  Typical  Negro  Cabin. 


in  Old  Virginia 

against  the  forces  of  the  world  has  en- 
riched the  annals  of  the  human  race, — 
a  people  whose  fortitude  in  defeat  has 
been  even  more  splendid  than  their 
valor  in  war.  /  It  made  men  noble, 
gentle,  and  brave,  and  women  tender 
and  pure  and  true.  It  may  have  fallen 
short  in  material  development  in  its  nar- 
rower sense,  but  it  abounded  in  spiritual 
development ;  it  made  the  domestic  vir- 
tues as  common  as  light  and  air,  and 
filled   homes  with  purity  and   peace. 

It  has  passed  from  the  earth,  but  it 
has  left  its  benignant  influence  behind 
it  to  sweeten  and  sustain  its  children. 
The  ivory  palaces  have  been  destroyed, 
but  myrrh,  aloes,  and  cassia  still  breathe 
amid  their  dismantled  ruins. 


~7 


109 


